A battered suitcase lay open and empty on a wooden-framed bed.  A scuttling woman in red high heels and a blue and white spotted dress quickly walked around.  Her loose red hair swayed this way and that, as she continuously spun around and opened drawers and cupboards.  Cold, folded clothes lay around the suitcase.  It worried about its safety as the clothes piled higher and higher, blocking all possible exits.  There was nowhere to turn.  All different colours and materials rise in the warm palms of the women.  Its mouth opened wider with awe as it gobbled up the cotton clothes.  A smile of relief curved and softened the sharp edges.  Its top lip closed and its chin was in the firm grip of the warm hands and a large blue door was opened and then locked shut. 
She walked with solid clunks on the heavy cobbled ground.  The streets were crowded.  A variety of people passed by, although, the general flow overtook the suitcase and its lady-friend.  The markets moved closer.  The lady took a deep breath.  Her pace quickened, grip tightened, she walked on.  Moustached men (with black and white striped outfits) approached the suitcase and lady.  The men held raw spaghetti, frozen pizzas, olives and raw fish.  They attempted to tempt the lady’s taste-buds but she restrained herself.  She slalomed through the many men and stable stalls - the old suitcase taking a battering to protect its friend.
After dodging through all of the tempting faces, they finally escaped.  They were free.  They walked to the river and stood for a moment.  She breathed in the cool, crisp breeze that seemed to bounce off the water like a skipping pebble.  The antiquated suitcase swayed blissfully in the sympathised wind.  But this moment was not to last.
They walked hand in handle back into a crowd, although not the tempting moustached-men crowd that smelt of pasta flour and fish.  No, this crowd was much more sophisticated; full of well-dressed women and clean suited men, accompanied by bag-carriers.  Though, the lady felt silly amongst these people, as she only carried the single suitcase.  Her eyes wandered up and down the large ship, amazed by its beauty. 
‘First one in history, Ma’am, to go across the great Atlantic Ocean.  This is the first time, first class ship.” 
She nodded slightly at the man as he smoked his fat cigar.  As she walked, the ship towered above her.  The sun rays shined around the seven letters that were so perfectly arranged to form a faultless, mystery word.  The suitcase longed to know what it said.  It reached around to try and read it, but failed.  However, to his delight, he heard her whisper those letters in one, single word.  “Titanic.”  The word almost sounded meaningless but time would soon tell.  Though meaningless, the word held some sort of pride and masterpiece to it...and sadness.
The horns sounded and a voice shouted.  It was time to board.  They were about to step onto the walking bridge when an ice hand crept onto her shoulder.  A thick, jolted shudder ran down her spine.  Fear stained her face.  Another moustached-man stood in front of her.  The suitcase swayed violently, getting psyched up, ready to fight.  “May I take you bag, Miss?”
“You may, I’m in room 104,” she paused and the man’s cold hands slip roughly into the grip of the suitcase.  It was terribly afraid.  “Thank you!”  She shouted after the man had left with her suitcase.  The man only heard a faint cry from a sweet silvery voice. 
He walked heavily.  The suitcase jumped around in his hand.  It was almost crying.  It wriggled and squirmed in his hand.  It looked behind to see her.  She looked lost but felt happy.  Her dress spun round her, dancing to the soft howls of the wind.  Oh how the suitcase dreamt so wishfully to fluctuate to the rhythm of her heels on the dry, boulevard ground.  It squeezed its eyes shut as if to project its thoughts to her; all its wishful thoughts.  But as it opened its eyes, her red shoes and hair stood out in its blurry vision.  She began up the walking bridge.  There were many parallel wooden bridges, leading to one of 10 doors of entrance. 
The moustached-man carried the suitcase up one of the adjacent bridges.  The weeping suitcase looked up and once again saw hope.  She entered door number 5, while it went through door 6.   There was a long corridor linking all the doors to many passageways.  She looked to her right and saw it.  She smiled.  Another horn echoed, causing her, and everyone else aboard the ship, to run, or briskly walk, to the front of the mammoth cruiser.  The front was so beautiful.  The scenic sky as the ceiling; wooden planks, polished and smooth, and an array of seats scattered and perfectly arranged.  The lady ran to the barrier.  She was so ecstatic and peaceful, though sadness lingered in the atmosphere.
Finally, a third horn sounded and smoke chuffed from all three massive chimneys that sat on the top of the ship.  The Titanic was away.  She waved to the general crowd by the side of the now moving ship.  The many hundreds also on the front waved as well.  This was to be the trip of her life.
Meanwhile, the suitcase lay sobbing on the floor by the bed in room 104.  The man had just dumped it on the ground as though it was worthless.  To tell the truth, this suitcase was far from worthless.  So many generations it had been passed through.  And a many journeys it had travelled.  But as it lay there, weeping and abandoned, it thought intensely about the many happy days.  Then it thought of its red-haired.  How beautiful she was.  She’s definitely its favourite generation.
It remembers one time the lady and her mother and father went on a diminutive trip to North Italy.  It was so sublime!  From one end of the street to another there were shops.  Oh, they were one of the most sophisticated and exquisite shops ever to be seen to the eyes.  And after a long walk down on street of shops, there were another five more to venture down.  Delightful!
The memories couldn’t stop the tears.  It looked so longingly at the door.  Still hoping the door would burst open and she would scoop it in her arms and never again let go.  But at this moment in time, she sat on the wooden seats soaking in the cool breeze and admiring the open seas.  The freedom of the green-blue ocean brought so much comfort and grace. 
Time was sailing away.  The sky was no longer bright and blue with cotton clouds of white.  Now it was rays of orange and apricot painted streaks on a gradient dark blue canvas.  The pallid, filament clouds turning navy blue and diamond stars shining on one side of the large sky.  The sun was a semi-circle of fluorescent orange radiance.  And all this brilliance was reflected in the ocean and captured in the ripples.  It was a perfect beauty.
Soon, however, an icy breeze blew in, so the lady went inside.  She wandered through all the endless corridors to finally find room 104.  She unlocked the door and calmly walked in, seeing her favourite suitcase safe at last.  She opened its mouth and began unpacking.  She had many beautiful dresses of many colours; shoes of many shapes and styles.  She put all of her clothes away and then at the bottom of it she saw the most stunning dress she owned.
It was a semi-long that came to about her knees.  She held it against the front of her body, partially covering her blue spotted dress, and danced around the room.  The green silk dress swished and curled her small figure.  She loved to feel the purple lace that sat on the green, for its cotton was more wool-like and soft.  She smiled cunningly to herself.  She took off the blue and white spots and red shoes.  She smoothly slipped into her silk dress and took out her hairstyle.  She sat in front of the arch mirror and grabbed her bristled brush.  While she brushed and powdered, the suitcase sighed a relief and admired her attractiveness. 
It always loved the look of her long hair, down and flowing freely.  So did she.  But society would not let her.  It groaned when she pulled her hair neatly into a stylish bun.  Disappointment didn’t linger any longer for she was pulling on her black high-heels and grabbing a small black cardigan and exiting her room.  This time though, the suitcase did not cry.  He just smiled happily and drifted to sleep.
For her first night on the Titanic she would dance, though she thought differently.  She walked to one the first class restaurants to have a ‘grown up’ meal and maybe mingle.  She arrived there and the first thing she noticed was the judgemental snobs that looked down at her and her style.  It was very uncomfortable.  She sat on a small table by herself next to the window.  There were quiet, small whispers and snobby stares.  A suited waiter approached her. 
“What would you like, Ma’am?” he asked, holding a small notepad and pen to his chest.
“Um I’ll have cucumber sandwiches and an English Tea, please.”
The whispering stopped.  The waiter left and the laughter began.  She was at first confused.  A young lady walked past her table and she gently tapped her arm, and she twirled around to face the lady.  “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, um, why are the ladies laughing at me?”
The young lady glanced back over:  “Those ladies?  They think you’re trying to be posh by ordering cucumber sandwiches and English tea.  They find it awfully amusing.”
The suitcases friend felt embarrassed though she needn’t be.  She wasn’t trying to be posh; she was just eating what she liked.  “So I’m guessing they don’t like me.”
One of the snobbiest ladies began laughing even louder that all the rest.  She felt so embarrassed that she got up and walked out, tears welling up. 
She sat on one of the wooden chairs on the front sky-roofed balcony.  Her tears felt like ice chasing down her cheeks.  No one was around.  She felt free to cry and cried she did.  The trip was meant to be an escape from her reality; but all it was, was a nightmare.  If only she found somewhere she belonged.
As she wept, two laughing girls danced past her.  They went to the railed edge and opened their arms wide against the harsh wind.  But she did not see them.  She only saw her blue hands soaked in her sorrows.  One of the girls was a brunette wearing an apricot silk dress.  The other was a blonde in a black and white floral dress.  They were both beautiful.  They both love the open water, just like she did.
“Hey!”  The brunette yelled across the front to the weeping lady.  The lady looked up.
“Um, hi?” she sobbed.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, you look a bit upset,” the blonde was now joining in.
“I’m alright.”
They could tell she was lying
The lady was admiring the beauty of the two girls because of the most fascinating reason.  They had their hair down.  Their hair was free and flowing in the breeze.  They both smiled at each other before beckoning the lady to follow them.  She stood up and straightened herself out before following the girls.  They skipped down some spiral stairs down and down.  The stairs seemed never ending.  The laughed with joy at their growing dizziness.  The lady now joined in as they ran.
“Take you hair out!” shouted one of the girls.  The lady felt dared and she smiled blissfully and jumped as her hand gripped the black ribbon that trapped her hair.  It fell like lace being undone.  She heard gasps from her admirers.  Her red-hair was long and healthy.  No dandruff or split ends, just the most beautiful silky-smooth hair to ever be laid on a head.  They finally were nearing the end of the spiral.  Music began to be heard.  Loud folk music of windpipes, flutes, tambourines and shakers sounded so happy and cheery.  They now heard the shoes stomping the ground to the beat.  Claps and cheers now joined the chorus of noise and they saw an end to the stairs.
The end of the stairs brought amazement.  In the dusty light she saw folk dresses and colourful suits.  The ladies danced with the men, lifting their skirts and legs high whilst the men skipped like horses.  All of the ladies had their hair down also.  The three new arrivals went into the dancing straight away.  The lady danced and a random man joined her, though she didn’t mind.  She instantly got into the fun.  Most of the people down her drank, danced and dreamt. 
As she danced there was a large knock.  The whole ship jolted and shook.  The lady fell over (as did many others).  The music players stopped.  The lights flickered.  Someone looked out the circular window to see the water.  “I can’t see anything!”  Whispers began though shouted at anyone in particular, but there were phrases like: “We hit something!  What was it?” 
“Is everyone ok?”
“It was probably nothing.”
“It couldn’t have been nothing.  The whole ship shook.”
The lady now remembered the lingering sadness in the seven letter word.  And now she knew why.
...

The current began to take a-hold of the suitcase.  It swam and swam.  The suitcase swam for many days and nights, its tears combining with the oceans.  The days became hotter and hotter and the sun began to shine even brighter.  Though the suitcase did not become any happier.  It gave up swimming and just let nature direct its course.  In fact it seemed that fate would lead it somewhere. 
The suitcase beached on the sand.  It was very hot sand at that.  Happy laughter came from across the sand.  A black child was getting some water in his plastic jug when he saw it.  He smiled a smile so large that even the suitcase could not resist the temptation to return a grin.  It was picked up in the warm hands of the kid and carried off.  Another adventure awaited in the safe hands of Africa...